


The Abyss.

by punkypeggy



Series: Letters to Moriarty [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkypeggy/pseuds/punkypeggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unsent letter from Sherlock to Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Sometimes one just needs to stare into the abyss. 

You won’t be surprised to know that the definition of abyss is terribly complex and completely subjective, of course. It can be a woman, an unopened letter, a knife far too sharp, a needle, a mirror. To me, you could be the abyss. I could look into your eyes, appropriate you, aprehend you. Turn your chaos into my cosmos. Classify you. Dissect you. Turn you into my nemesis, and you wouldn’t even notice. My own personal abyss, staring back at me. Wouldn’t you like that?

  
The problem resides in the fact that the abyss sometimes resembles too much the observer, for it wouldn’t be one’s abyss otherwise. Then, the two participants (abyss and observer) become just a reflection, one at each side of the mirror. Scaringly similar and yet, not entirely. One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn’t belong.  
  
In our case (or, as you prefer to call it, our “ _final problem_ ”) the mirror ( _the looking-glass and what Alice found there_ ) is life. It serves the opposite purpose for us. To me, it is a puzzle. Something to untangle and read. To you, it is something to be marvelled at, a beauty you can only make yours by destroying it. You are action, I am reaction. You write the story, I sign “ _The End_ ”. To the both of us, ultimately, life is a game. White King, Black King, dancing on the chessboard.   
  
My horror at your crimes is lost in my admiration at your skill. You think I am the only one who can completely understand you. That I am like you. In your desperation to find an equal, someone to justify your existence, you’ve created me, and not the other way around. I am YOUR abyss. You’re just a reason looking for the next because. The frailty of genius resides in its need of an audience. Well, my dearest enemy… you’ve crossed the mirror and captured my attention.  
  
Shall we dance and see if you’re worth of a standing ovation?

 

-SH


End file.
